Heads
by SMKLegacy
Summary: The coin lands heads up.


**Heads**

TEASER: The coin lands heads up.

DISCLAIMER: Even after the series finale, everything in this story except the plot belongs to DPB and the rest of TPTB. I doubt I'll ever have enough money to buy the 10 seasons on DVD, never mind make a serious offer for the rights.

ARCHIVE: At my own site and with my permission (see my profile for e-mail).

FEEDBACK: …makes me smile.

RATING: M

AUTHOR'S NOTE and SPOILERS: This is an alternate companion piece to "Tails". After almost 3 weeks, I just couldn't ignore my muse anymore. The entire canon could be at risk.

**JAG JAG JAG **

29 APRIL 2005  
McMURPHY'S TAVERN, FALLS CHURCH, VA  
2357 ZULU

Mac didn't realize she was holding her breath until the coin landed on the floor with a heavy "clank". Bud bent over to see the results, but even then she couldn't let it go. This unexpected limbo felt safer than either the heads or the tails option, wrapped as she was by Harm's strong arms and feeling his raw desire for her in every beat of his heart.

"Well," Bud started, his face still turned down to the floor, "since you're both going to win the far more important part of happiness regardless of which way up this coin landed, how about we have another round of dr-"

"Commander Roberts," Harm said in a menacing tone Mac had never heard him use toward Bud before. She turned in Harm's arms and found him smiling with one eyebrow quirked up.

Bud straightened as though pulled up by a puppet master. "Sir!" Then he saw the expression on Harm's face. "Another round of drinks before I tell you?"

"I could check for myself, Bud." Harm's voice contained affectionate laughter as his blue-green eyes sparkled with mirth. Mac fell a little more in love with him then.

Bud answered with a smile of his own and held up his tightly clenched fist. "You could, sir, but you'd be looking at an empty spot on the floor."

She had to let out her breath or suffocate on the spot, but since the whole group laughed just then, it wasn't so obvious that her tension had been held in her lungs. Even Sturgis gave a good guffaw, seeming to Mac more at ease with himself than he had in a year or more. Maybe having Varese around was already doing his troubled soul some good.

With a dramatic sigh, Harm lifted his arm up to the bartender. "Joanna, one more round to these torturers, then they're cut off until we know whether we're setting up shop in London or San Diego."

"You got it, Captain."

General Creswell raised his half empty martini glass. "Here's to fate, whatever it may bring our way."

"To fate," they each echoed.

"And to finally getting it together enough to be together," Harriet added. "May your home life be far less tempestuous than your professional life has been."

Mac snorted with laughter. "Amen to that!"

Harm pulled her a little closer, nuzzling her neck with his lips. "We figured that out. Whichever one of us resigns the commission gets to be on top at home."

She wanted to giggle at the bemused looks of her colleagues – former colleagues? – as they tried to puzzle that through. But as with so many things in her relationship with Harm, it was a private joke with public overtones. "I'm betting it will be up to the Marines to keep order regardless. Even if we adopt children, you know Harm's influence will be toward mischief." That would make a few of them wonder, but at least that was one thing Harm had been very clear about in the hour or so they had talked after he proposed. He intended to be the father of her children if she still wanted to be the mother of his, and it didn't matter if they were theirs biologically or not.

"Hey, that's not . . . oh, wait, I guess there may be some truth to that."

Bud and Sturgis laughed until they doubled over and General Creswell smiled while Mac buried her face in his chest and chortled.

"Do you know why they're laughing so hard, ma'am?" Mac heard Jen ask Harriet.

"Yes. Well, some of it, anyway. Mostly the stuff I've had to explain to Little AJ is inappropriate."

They consumed the second round of drinks as Harriet and Bud gave everyone the update on the new twins and their big brothers.

Bud drained his beer and thumped the mug on the counter behind Harm. "Okay, the moment of truth has come."

Harm's arms tightened around her more. He leaned down to whisper, "The fates will keep us together," and kissed her cheek. "Okay, Bud, let's have the coin." He held out his palm.

Bud opened his fist to reveal nothing.

Mac giggled, figuring out instantly what their friend had done. Harm, however, groused about a rigged coin toss and fumed about a "do over", which got Sturgis, Jen, and the general laughing again. Harriet nudged Bud after a moment.

"Sorry, Captain, sir. I just couldn't resist the sleight of hand. I will now remove my foot from the coin to reveal that the coin landed . . ." he moved his prosthetic limb six inches and chuckled as the whole group leaned toward the floor, ". . . heads up. Which means tha-"

"That the Colonel will be going to assume command of her new group in San Diego while her husband-to-be circulates his curriculum vitae."

Mac whirled in Harm's arms and stared up at him, unable to find words.

Harm shrugged. "Mattie will be better off in the States, and I really want to be close to my mother so our children can have what I had growing up – a grandmother to spoil them and to talk sense into them when neither of us can."

"Harm?" She heard the tears in her voice and cursed herself for her surprise at his sacrifice. He had given it all up for her before, only she had been too stupid and blind to understand at the time. And she had been contemplating the exact same sacrifice had the coin toss gone the other way, though in all honesty she wasn't sure what she would have done. Now she would never know, which sharpened the stab of unworthiness in her gut for a moment.

"Well, Gran tried," he offered, reaching up to soothe away a tear that had fallen to her cheek. "We both know I can't go back to carrier duty, but there may be a way for me to finish out with 25 years through a reserve squadron if I give back this fourth bar. And if not, a 20 year retirement at O-5 will help with expenses until I have a civilian job."

She blinked at him, aware but not caring that they had an audience. "You've given this a lot of thought, Sailor."

He grinned at her, the "Flyboy" smile to which she claimed to be immune but wasn't. "Just practical, Mac. In four more years, you'll be able to retire at 20 if you want to, and then we'll have two pensions plus two lucrative civilian salaries to help us put our children through college."

This time, hearing him say, "Our children," sent a chill up and down her spine. That sounded so right. "Are you sure?"

He leaned in and kissed her for the first time in public, and no simple touch of his lips to hers, either. Mac thought she heard the general clear his throat at least twice as Harm melted every hesitation with the passion and love in his gesture.

He pulled back. "I'm sure," he said before she could catch her breath.

"In that case, Cap . . . Harm, if I may interrupt you." General Creswell's voice sounded less like a Marine's and more like that of a delighted friend.

She and Harm turned to face their CO. She noticed that the others watched him, too, each with his or her own look of curiosity.

"I got word on my way out of the office that the Marine O-6 board results can now be announced. I was supposed to be able to tell you this when I gave you the San Diego assignment, Mac, but we weren't allowed to release the information until the results of an active investigation could be assessed." He grinned. "Congratulations, Colonel Mackenzie. Full bird colonel, that is." He extended his hand.

She gripped his hand and started to say something, but he had more to say. "Just so you know, the Marine board was dated a day before the Navy board, and you were officially frocked whether you accepted the San Diego position or not. You still outrank him."

The congratulations flowed around her as Harm continued to hold her against him. If she weren't so ready for what would happen later, she would be content to stay like this for the rest of the night. But Harm's heart beat a slow, hypnotic tattoo against her skin and the deliberate circles his thumb made in the small of her back lulled her into a state of languid arousal she was sure everyone could see.

"There is one more small detail," Harm said, the rumble in his chest sending a wave of deep pleasure through her body. He unwrapped one arm from around her to fumble in his pocket. When he rewrapped his arm around her, in the palm of his hand rested an emerald velvet jewelry box.

She knew it was coming, but the moment caught her by surprise and all she could do was stare at the box.

"I suppose I could have helped fate along a bit if I had shown this to you a while back," he said, his voice soft and a bit sad. "I scratched out the amount, but look at the receipt first." He worked the box through his fingers to turn it over.

She slipped the receipt out of its envelope and allowed it to fall open. As he said, the dollar amounts were blacked out, but she could see the store, the itemized list for the setting, the stones, and the inscription, and most importantly the date at the top of the bill of sale. She announced, "November 14, 2001."

Harriet squealed and jumped up and down. "That's the day after the first JAGATHON, ma'am."

Mac felt her eyes go wide, but before she could respond to that fact, Harm nudged her. "Open it so I can read the inscription to you."

"Never mind the inscription, sir. Open it so we can see the ring, ma'am," Jen begged.

Mac had no idea what to expect, other than three stones as shown on the receipt. She assumed they were diamonds, but her first glance at the box that somehow opened under her inept fingers told her she was wrong. About two of them, anyway.

On one side of the ring, a royal blue sapphire, cut in a square, lay nestled in the yellow gold cradle. On the other side lay a rich, blood red ruby cut the same way. Between them sat a princess cut diamond, sparkling rainbows in the bright overhead lights of the bar. Mac thought of the US flag they both worked so hard to honor before the deeper symbolism came to her. Navy blue and Marine Corps red in the gold that went with both, along with the diamond that meant eternity.

She knew tears streamed down her face when she looked up into Harm's eyes, but she didn't care.

He smiled at her, then slipped his arms out from around her and dropped to one knee in front of their closest friends. He took the ring out of the box and angled it so he could read around the inside.

"I'm Harmon Rabb. Marry me, Sarah Mackenzie?"

She threw back her head and laughed her affirmative answer, more sure now than ever that no matter what happened in their lives, she and Harm would grow old together. Who else would start over at the beginning with a marriage proposal?

Their friends whistled and cheered as they kissed, good-byes were said, and then the party was over and they were left standing at the bar with an empty beer mug, a glass of flat soda with lemon, and an envelope addressed to Harm with the JAG insignia in the upper left corner.

"Who's that from?" Mac asked, pointing at the envelope.

"I don't know. It's typed and there's no name on it." He slipped it inside his jacket pocket. "I'll read it later. Meet you at the hotel?"

She nodded and opened her purse. "The penthouse suite," she told him, handing him a keycard. "The balcony has an incredible view of the city overlooking the Tidal Basin with a clear view of all the memorials and monuments on the Mall."

"A good view is important." He leered at her more openly than he ever had before.

She moaned, unable to stop her reaction to the surge of desire that coursed through her under his gaze. "Hurry."

Hurry he did, arriving in their suite sixteen minutes and fifty five seconds after she did. She knew he would tell her about his conversation with Mattie at some point, but when he hung the "Do not disturb" sign out, then closed and locked the door behind him, she knew he had other matters on his mind first.

Mac met him there, awkward and uncertain despite everything that had happened in the last eight hours and forty six minutes. Or maybe she owed her hesitance to those sudden seismic shifts in her universe that had landed her here in this moment, standing before the man she loved and had loved for eight years (including two leap years!), 3 months, 26 days, 11 hours, and 10 minutes. She twisted her engagement ring, finding its presence on her left hand both comforting and discomfiting for all it represented in their lives.

"You okay, Sarah?" Harm asked, lifting her chin with his finger. He searched her face, resting his eyes first on her lips, then meeting her eyes with his gentle, concerned look.

"Just . . . overwhelmed, I guess."

His lips quirked up. "Well, that's a first. My Marine, admitting to being overwhelmed."

"Say that again," she demanded, smiling and sliding the half step between them to lean into his chest.

His arms came around her. "What, that it's a first you admitting to being overwhelmed?" His laughter rippled around her in an embrace as possessive as his arms. "Or the other part?"

"The other." Her voice sounded gravelly and wanton to her. Harm's moan and the movement of his fingers at the top of the zipper of her dress made her think her unintentional tone affected him more than she would have thought. She smiled at him. "The part where you call me, 'My Marine,' Sailor."

His fingers burned along the now bare skin of her back as he let her see his obsession in his eyes. Other men had tried to possess her, had been obsessed with her, but the depth of Harm's devotion made these dangerous feelings thrilling as his gaze lingered on her lips. "My Marine."

The husky, quavering richness in his voice shot straight to her core, scorching away the last vestiges of the control that had slipped so infrequently in the past eight years. She tilted her head up, intending to kiss him, but his height gave him the advantage.

Savage love. Those were the only words she could summon to describe the kiss that lasted until he had backed her onto the balcony and pinned her against the railing. She thought perhaps he carried her, as she was sure she had no control over any part of her body except her hands, which roamed the expanse of his back, and her lips, which dueled with his for dominance.

A mild spring breeze rippled through her hair as Harm's hands began the exploration she had dreamed about almost every night since January 3, 1997. The contrast of the cool air on her scalp with his scalding hands on her abdomen made her legs quiver and left her fingers trembling as she tried to undo his tie.

"You're overdressed," she complained.

"So are you," he answered, and brushed her nipples with his thumbs under her dress. "This view is wonderful, but there's one I want even more." He moved his hands up to the straps on her dress.

She decided that the only way she would get Harm suitably disrobed before he had stripped her naked and driven her to the edge three times over was to take charge of this seduction, at least temporarily. The moan she gave when she pushed him back into the room came not from effort but from the way his hands skimmed down her sides and around to cup her ass as he pulled her against him.

She made quick work of his jacket, tie, and cummerbund, taking care to lay them out neatly on the night table beside the bed.

He laughed when his collection of medals clinked together. "A hero so many times over, yet putty in the hands of a beautiful woman. I'm just a typical man."

"Give yourself a little more credit than that, Sailor," she said. With every couple of words, she unfastened another button on his shirt. "I'm not just any woman. I'm a Marine." The defined muscles of his chest beckoned her lips. She continued between nips and licks along his pecs. "Lesser men . . . have fallen prey . . . to me and been found . . . wanting." She pulled his shirttail out of his pants and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, leaving him to deal with the sleeves as she nibbled at his neck. "But you . . . oh, you are unique . . . you fought me fo-"

"For 3038 days, 2 hours, and 4 minutes before I worked up the nerve to propose."

She sat back, shocked at his statement. His eyes looked bluer than they ever had before as he stared back at her as if debating what to say or do next.

Her hands busied themselves at his waistband. "You're strong willed."

He reached out to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The silky red fabric fell to her waist, revealing her breasts to him for the first time. "I'm dense," he corrected, looking down to see where his wandering hands had landed. "I loved you for a long, long time before the JAGATHON, Sarah. I'm sorry it's taken me so long . . ."

"Harm." She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself against him, wanting the skin to skin contact of their bare chests. She wanted much more, but that would come in a little while. This had to be said once and laid to rest. "We cannot keep beating ourselves up for what might have been. Fate put us together and kept us together all this time, for no logical reason at all except that we truly belong together. Maybe now we're old enough and wise enough to make it work for all eternity, when perhaps if we had figured it out before we would have killed our love too soon. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know that we will face it together. I love you, and I am not letting you go. No way, no how. Till death do us part, and only then for a little while."

"Really?" She almost laughed at the realization that he was still reeling from all of this, too.

"I promise."

"Dear God in heaven, I love you, Sarah."

They didn't speak again with words, instead letting their bodies speak as long denied desires found fulfillment in the exploration of hands, tongues, and lips.

Mac lost track of time when Harm's ministrations left her convulsing in delirious pleasure the likes of which she had never dreamed possible, even in her fantasies of him. Even that feeling paled in comparison to the rapture that overcame her when they finally joined in what had always been the ultimate forbidden act in their relationship.

"Sarah," she heard him howl through the fog of blood rushing through her veins. She vowed then to hear that cry as often as she could, that masculine call of need, conquest, and passionate devotion only a man in love can utter.

They lay content on the bed, allowing the soft breeze from the open balcony door to cool them as their breathing slowed in unison. His arms held her on top of him and she could feel his breath in her hair just as she felt the comforting rise and fall of his chest.

"Harm?"

"Yes, my love?"

She giggled, still giddy from their lovemaking and unused to hearing such endearments from him. "What do you suppose is in that letter?"

"What letter?" He sounded genuinely confused.

That didn't stop her from teasing him. Their relationship, after all, had banter as a support column. "Gee, Sailor, if our sex is going to be so mind-blowing that your short term memory goes to hell, we may not be able to have a whole lot of it."

Next thing she knew, she was looking up into his face at a wickedly hungry grin. "You mean the letter with the JAG insignia that was on the bar between Bud's empty beer mug and your soda with a twist glass that had only water and the twist left?"

She nodded, then captured his smiling lips in a kiss that lasted longer than she intended. He obviously wanted to deal with the letter later, but sated as she was for the moment, her curiosity had reared its head. "That would be the one. And now that you're on top, you can reach over and get it, lover."

Harm stuck his tongue out at her, but she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth, laughing instead when he pouted and tried to reach his jacket without moving anything more than his arm. He had to hitch himself up a few inches, which proved to her that age meant nothing in this relationship when it came to sexual performance.

"At least one part of me has an excellent short-term memory," he quipped. He snagged the collar of his white jacket and dragged it over the edge of the bed. "You'd better hope the letter is still in my pocket, 'cause I'm way too comfortable to get off you to pick it up from the floor here."

She pushed herself up an inch or two to remove the immediate distraction. "Just open the thing, Harm."

He grinned at her, clearly as curious as she, but tried one more time. "I'd rather make love again."

"After. I promise."

He nearly ripped the envelope in two trying to open it, but after a moment of fumbling, he extracted what turned out to be a sheet of JAG letterhead and a sheet of embossed civilian letterhead, each with a handwritten letter.

"Well?"

Harm shuffled the papers. "The one on top is from Creswell. The one under it is from Chegwidden. Dated in October with fancy initials and everything. I bet I should read Creswell's first."

"Probably."

"Okay. 'Dear Captain Rabb,' he put parenthesis around 'and Colonel Mackenzie,'" Harm began. "'When you read the enclosed letter, you will understand how this came to be. But let me just assure you that there is no need for you to resign your commission to be with Mac in San Diego. The Inspector General of 3rd Fleet is retiring on 31 July. You'll have to go to IG school here in DC before you can start the transition, but I trust that the two of you are heavily invested in making everything work long term and can make six weeks without each other work without your personal lives collapsing around you. I require an answer by 1800 Sunday.'"

"IG? Harm, that's amazing! That could be as important a stepping stone to flag rank as the post in London." She studied his face for a moment, fascinated to watch so many emotions waft across that expressive canvas.

After initial confusion, lingering dismay, a brief tinge of anger, and a flash of introspection that took him a million miles away, the dawning clarity of understanding and determination brought a light to his eyes she had only seen previously when he was flying.

"What do you think, Sarah?"

It would take a as long to get used to him using her given name as to get used to terms of endearment. From him, both were caresses rather than manipulative tools, as with so many other men. "I think you need to read AJ's letter before you decide."

"We decide."

His correction settled in her heart, a soft blanket of joy added to the bed of bliss building there moment by moment. "We decide. Read AJ's."

"There's a little more to Creswell's. 'You're probably wondering why I knew that this would happen.'" Harm shifted on his elbows and looked down at her. "Actually, I was kind of wondering that."

Mac rolled her eyes. "I'm not. The only two people oblivious to us in that entire office are right here on this bed."

"Right." He stuck his tongue out at her again. "'I knew because despite all rumors to the contrary, they do not remove your heart when they pin a Globe and Anchor over it. Neither do they remove your brain when they give you the first star. Apparently, however, the rumor is true that Aviator's wings cause a short circuit between one's heart and one's brain or you and the colonel would have figured this out a long time ago and saved everyone a lot of grief, not to mention what little hair AJ Chegwidden had when he started this job. You have this one chance to have it all, Harm. Treat this chance and Mac with the utmost respect, or you will have two very angry flag officers riding your ass for the rest of your life.'"

He set the letters on the night stand and leered at her. "I'd rather have you riding another part of my–"

"Yes, dear, I'm sure you would. Chegwidden's. Now."

"Oh, alright, Miss Impatient." He took his time getting comfortable above her with the letters in his hands again. "You know, my elbows are going to be sore later."

"Read. You may be over me, but I outrank you." She grabbed his ass and squeezed. "And I want you, but not until you've read that letter."

"'Dear Gordon. By now you've read the personnel jackets of your entire staff. You're wondering if half of it is true; you've gotten as much of the classified stuff as the CIA is ever going to give you on Roberts, Turner, Rabb, and Mackenzie; and you've figured out that wherever Rabb goes, Mackenzie goes and vice versa. It rarely works to split them up, even when they aren't speaking to one another. That happens about three times a year for as long as four weeks. Those two are just emotionally stunted teenagers who haven't figured out that it's okay to be in love with your best friend.'" Harm narrowed his eyes at her. "You know, he could have said something."

"Right. That would have been official acknowledgement and possible prosecution, Harm."

"Good point. So he goes on, 'Within the next nine months, you're going to need to make some major staff changes. When you do, force Rabb's and Mackenzie's hands by putting them as far away from each other as you can. Then call Vice Admiral Jackson, the IG. He will know why you're calling and will provide you with exactly what you need to live through the experience of trying to break up Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Call if you need the wheels greased. Regards, AJ.'" Harm pursed his lips. "How the hell did Admiral Chegwidden know about Butch and Sundance?"

She laughed. "He probably doesn't, but since it fits, I can't be the only one that analogy has occurred to. Now, put the letter down and let's make love." She wanted him now – and she wanted to have the conversation about Creswell's offer after both of them had slept.

He rolled off of her and stood up, then stepped back with his head cocked to one side and his arms folded across his chest. "So, you're really going to marry me, huh?"

She held up her left hand. "That's what this says." She laid the same hand over her heart. "That's what this says." She patted her head with her other hand. "It's even what this says, although I'm thinking I should get this examined before I take it's word for it."

Mac caught the twinkle in his eyes as he answered her. "I'm thinking I want to examine every inch of you to see just exactly what it is that I'm marrying." Then he landed on the bed with his head between her legs and she lost all interest in talking for a long, long time.

**JAG JAG JAG **

30 APRIL 2005  
LOEWS L'ENFANT HOTEL, WASHINGTON, DC  
1918 ZULU

In the end, there wasn't much to discuss about General Creswell's offer. Aside from taking care of the chain of command and fraternization issues, it made spectacular sense for Harm's career. He needed a command in order to advance any further but would not get one within the aviation world. His gift for ferreting out the truth no matter where it led would serve him in good stead within the IG world and, assuming he could move on to a theater command, position him well as a candidate for Naval Inspector General. Six weeks of separation didn't seem so awful when Vice Admiral Harmon Rabb, Jr., sounded so good to both of them.

The added bonus, they agreed, was that many of the investigations Harm oversaw would eventually lead to legal activity that would be handled by Mac's new group. Although they would be working in separate chains of command and would themselves be in command of substantial staffs, they figured they would have need to meet officially at least twice a month. And a quick check of the San Diego facilities showed that the 3rd Fleet IG and her joint operations JAG offices would be on the same quadrangle, so regular lunch dates were a definite probability.

"What about Mattie? How did she take the change in plans?" Mac asked late on Saturday afternoon after a marathon make out session. They were sitting together in a chair they'd dragged out to the balcony, watching the clouds drift over the place that would no longer be home as of Monday morning.

"Actually, as long as she's with both of us, she says she'd be happy in Antarctic. When I talked to her back on Tuesday, I, um, told her that you kept watch over both of us and she kind of intimated that I was an idiot for not getting it."

"And what did you say to that?"

He squeezed her hands where they lay in his. "I said she was absolutely right, kissed her forehead, and promised to fix it."

"Well, you managed to do that."

"Yeah, and I was feeling bad about not getting to see her again until Sunday. You know what the scamp said to me then?"

Mac shook her head. "Not a clue."

"She said not to come unless you came with me sporting the world's most gorgeous engagement ring as proof that I didn't chicken out."

"What if I'd said no?"

Harm's laugh filled the room. "Mattie has some misguided notion that Marines never back down from a challenge."

"So your ward thinks you're a challenge, eh?"

"Apparently."

"Smart girl."

"She takes after her soon-to-be mother."

Mac leaned away from him. "What?"

"Her parting shot when I talked to her last night was that she really didn't care whether the coin landed heads or tails as long as we get married and we both adopt her."

Mac had no immediate response to that. She and Mattie had gotten acquainted, but they weren't what Mac would call "close." After a few minutes to think, she snuggled into Harm's chest, her new favorite hang out, and sighed. "I don't get it. I'm delighted, but I don't get it."

Harm laughed above her and kissed her hair, which seemed to be his new favorite gesture of affection. "She's known for almost a year that I love you. I admitted it to her. Ever since then, she's been relentless in her quest to get every bit of information she can out of me."

"She's persistent, too."

Mac felt him smile against her head. "She, ah, didn't have to be. It seems I'm a motor mouth when it comes to you."

That made her laugh. "So, Captain Motor Mouth . . ."

"You wouldn't."

"Just did. Gonna do it again, too."

"Only until we get married."

"Oh, I don't know about that. It's so appropriate in so many ways."

"Your turn will come, Marine.

"Probably, but it isn't now. So, Captain Motor Mouth, when do you want to get married?"

"As soon as possible."

"Where?"

"Don't care. Wait, let me rephrase that. As long as it's not some ridiculous wedding chapel in Nevada where the minister is dressed like an alien or Elvis, I don't care. A hillside would work."

She laughed. "How about here where most of our friends are in six weeks? We can take a week's honeymoon before you start the transition of command, and by then I'll have things in shape enough to be gone."

"Brilliant. We have a lot to do . . ."

Mac laughed again. "_Au contraire, mon ami,_" she said, leaning in to kiss him. After a moment of intense passion, she pulled away, soothing his chasing lips with her thumb. "Harriet is chomping at the bit. We had a long talk after everything blew up a few years ago . . ." She knew she should have been able to say, "after my wedding to Mic fell through," but somehow she couldn't just then.

"You mean after fate dumped me in the North Atlantic and prevented you from making a horrible mistake." Harm took her palm and kissed it.

"Yeah. Anyway, she compiled a notebook and called it 'Mac's Dream Wedding'. It has all the things I would have done differently for that wedding and . . . well, everything in it is based on you being the groom."

"Was this before or after the JAGATHON?"

She sighed. "The day after. I'm sure Harriet guessed I was talking about you, but I never said your name."

Harm laughed so hard the whole couch shook. "I think our second daughter should be named 'Harriet' in her honor. She's been matchmaking psychically all this time."

Mac pursed her lips, confused. "What about our first – oh, Matilda Grace." She had a daughter. Maybe not legally, yet, but she had a daughter. "Harm, do you suppose Mattie would forgive you for coming early if I stick my hand in the room first as proof you didn't chicken out?"

**JAG JAG JAG**

4 JUNE 2005  
UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY CHAPEL COMPLEX, ANNAPOLIS, MD  
2055 ZULU

Mac looked at Sturgis Turner's father and wondered if he was thinking that all of this was a wee bit on the insane side. Somehow, he had managed six months of pre-marital counseling in six weeks via conference call, with Harm sitting in the room beside him and her at her desk in San Diego, taking late lunches twice a week to accommodate the time difference and staying up late every night to complete the assigned reading and worksheets so she could fax them to Chaplain Turner ahead of time.

"Meant to be," he said, surprising her.

"Sir?"

His kindly, wrinkled face broke into a broad smile. "You and Harm. It's the only explanation I have for the fact that you're both actually here."

She giggled, and even she could hear her nervousness in the high pitched chattering squeal. "Were you really afraid one of us would bail at this point?"

"I was more afraid you'd elope."

He held his arms out and she stepped into his embrace. Though she could feel his bones through his dress white uniform, he felt solid and healthy, which was good because she knew he would be a tremendous resource for both Harm and her in the years to come. And, of course, he was all the family Sturgis had.

"Mac, I've been doing weddings for 50 years and never had a bride pass out on me. Don't break my streak."

"She won't. She's a Marine." She hadn't heard the door open; General Creswell's voice startled her in mid-laugh. "A caravan from the office got stuck at a drawbridge and is running about ten minutes out. The wedding coordinator says we can hold until 1720 but not a minute later. The groom says he's okay to wait but that the bride outranks him so it's her call."

She caught the smile her CO tried to hide. "We'll wait – but we go at 1715 whether they're here or not." She wasn't about to antagonize the wedding coordinator, who only fit them in on such short notice because the bride in the wedding originally scheduled for 1700, an Air Force Reserve pilot on short recall, got called up the same day Harm called the chapel to see if the possibility even existed. What did that say about Fate? She didn't want to contemplate that just now, but said a prayer for the anonymous woman who wasn't getting married because her country decided it needed her more.

"I'll let him know." Creswell turned to go, but turned again at the door. "Colonel, I hope Cammie is as beautiful on her wedding day as you are on yours."

"Thank you, sir." She only just managed not to salute him as he closed the door behind him. She kissed the chaplain's cheek and stepped out of his arms to sit down in one of the oversized chairs made just for brides with big dresses. Hers wasn't big, but she did have a train to worry about.

Admiral Chegwidden stepped in and closed the door after a few words with the general. "So, this one is for real and forever, right, Mac?"

"Yes, sir." She saw him frown and realized her mistake. "Yes, AJ." Even after five weeks of phone calls and a week of him enjoying the role of surrogate father when he insisted on using his California Bar admission to help Harm and her close on their new house, she was still getting used to calling him by name rather than rank. She figured it would take a while; Harriet still slipped more often than not and it had been a full year since she left the office.

"Good. We're holding for the drawbridge, I take it."

"General Creswell told you?"

"Hell, no. Sorry, Matt. Heck, no. Admiral Morris called my cell instead of Gordon's by accident. I just sent Gordon in to talk to Harm for the shock value." AJ's face lit up at the thought.

Chaplain Turner shook his head and snorted. "As if marrying a Marine isn't enough, the closest thing Harm has to a father-in-law is a retired SEAL and his wife's CO is a Marine general. How likely is it that Harm's not going to do exactly what . . . wait, never mind. We're talking about Harm."

That made Mac laugh for real, right along with AJ. Some of the butterflies in her stomach dissipated.

"Well, let's say a quick prayer, then I'm going over to give the groom a pep talk."

The two men gathered around her and each took one of her hands, then joined hands to complete the circle. Any other time, she would have thought it odd for two men in dress whites to hold hands, but in the context of a prayer for her and her marriage, it seemed just right.

"Heavenly Father, we ask your guidance and blessing upon Mac and Harm as they begin their lives together as wife and husband and as parents to Matilda Grace. You know the difficult road they have traveled already. Smooth the road before them, that their joy may be full and their home full of happiness and contentment. We ask these things in the name of Jesus, amen."

"Amen." She squeezed both men's hands "It's 1702," she said when the chaplain went to check his watch.

Chaplain Turner chuckled as he walked out with a final wave.

"I expected a room full of women," AJ said, pulling a chair over to join her. "But I'm glad they aren't here right this minute, because I wanted a minute with you before the hysteria starts."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not your boss anymore. I can tell you something now that I couldn't have before."

"What's that, AJ?"

He took her hands in his; the size contrast wasn't as great as with Harm's, but AJ's hands looked much older than hers, lined and scarred with history she would never know. "I wish I had been able to get your Uncle Matt a furlough, you know."

"You said that last night, AJ. He called this morning and told me what you did to make it happen. He really appreciates your efforts."

"I feel like I should have done more. I know everything Matt did for you once he knew you were in trouble, Mac. And I don't mean to discount that at all. But I wish I had known you when you were a teenager, because maybe I could have helped you avoid a lot of the pain you've had in your life. Like you've done for Chloe and like Harm is doing for Mattie." He sighed. "I just, you know . . ."

She could count on one hand the number of times AJ Chegwidden had been speechless. This put her ahead of Harm 3-2 in the art of doing so. "It's okay, AJ. You were there for all the bad times in the last eight years. And now you're here for the happiest day of my life so far. That's more than anyone in my family can say."

The door opened and Harriet came in with Jimmy in her arms, followed by Chloe pushing Mattie in her wheelchair, maneuvering it with surprising dexterity through the close frames. Mac marveled once again at how beautiful each was: Harriet centered and peaceful in her growing maternal maturity, Chloe blossoming more each year as a brain and a beauty under her grandmother's watchful eye, Mattie surprisingly robust and deliriously happy with events despite the continuing weakness in her legs that left her in the wheelchair most of the time. They all looked gorgeous in their fitted royal blue tea length dresses.

AJ stood up and whistled his appreciation, which earned him endearing blushes from the three bridesmaids. "A man my age shouldn't be in such stunning company without a defibrillator at hand."

Mattie stretched out her arms to AJ. "I like you much better now that you're retired, AJ."

He laughed and bent over to hug her. "I like me better, too, Mattie." He hugged Chloe, too, then turned to Harriet. "You just get more beautiful every time I see you, Mrs. Roberts."

Harriet giggled and threw her arms around him. "You're too kind, sir."

Mac's nervous giggles came back when she saw the look AJ gave Harriet and the accompanying blush on her matron of honor's face.

"AJ."

"Much better. Time check?" He turned to Mac.

"1708."

"That's good, Mac, 'cause we just came from Harm and Bud and I'm not sure that there will be any floor left in the Groom's Parlor if Harm has to wait past 5:15," Mattie told her. "He's worse than any caged tiger I've ever seen in a zoo."

AJ sniggered. "That's normal for Harm the Impatient. I don't think he even had to wait for his gold wings to gain that quality."

"To hear Trish tell it, he was impatient _in utero_." Mac had gotten close to her future mother-in-law more quickly than she thought possible, perhaps because they had heard so much about each other since Harm and Mac met. It didn't hurt that Trish saw in Mac the daughter she had always wanted but never had, which alleviated some of the "I'm loosing my son" angst that many brides encounter with their husband's mother.

She went on, aware that her nerves were starting to make her talkative. "And according to Frank, putting 'patience' in the same sentence as the name 'Harm' goes against the laws of nature." Frank she adored at first sight; he met her plane with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne in hand and whisked her to the house he shared with Trish in La Jolla, where Mac stayed until they all came back to DC for the wedding. He even loaned her one of their cars, which she would be driving until all the household goods arrived the week after the honeymoon ended.

"I can believe that," Chloe said.

Mac looked at the two teenagers, so close in age with so much in common, and wondered again at Fate. Mattie and Chloe, prepared to dislike each other on principle, bonded instantly on Thursday when they realized they had almost identical play lists in their iPods. From there, the talking went on and on and on into the night until Mac threatened to make Chloe move out of the den into Bud and Harriet's second guest room. Harm hadn't exactly been helpful just then, but Harriet as the Matron of Honor had status that mere guardians and adoptive parents-to-be didn't. Mac didn't hear a peep out of the teens until almost 10 Friday morning.

The wedding coordinator poked her head in. "Your last guests just got seated. You ready?"

Everyone looked at Mac. She did an internal time check – 1712 – glanced around the room at her attendants, and then took a deep breath. "I've been waiting for this day for more than 8 years. You better believe I'm ready."

Jimmy took his place in Mattie's lap. Chloe turned Mattie's chair around and got her out the door, followed by Harriet as the last notes of Pachebel's _Canon in D_ announced that Trish had been seated by Sturgis and Jack Keeter. Bach's _Air on the G String_ started, marking the start of the bridal procession.

AJ helped her up and adjusted her train – he had volunteered for that task, much to everyone's surprise – handed her the bouquet of white roses, then took her arm and led her to the door. "Veil up or down?" he whispered.

"Down. Oh, God, it's not–"

He turned her a little and with great care lifted the layer of netting over her head and face. "I never pegged you for this much of a traditionalist."

"I never did either, but Harm told me once a long time ago what he envisioned at his wedding. He was always fascinated by the picture from his parents' wedding of his mom with her veil down, but he didn't think he'd ever find a woman who would be willing to do the whole lifting of the veil thing, since it's so old fashioned."

"Amazing how often Rabb is wrong, isn't it?" He resumed his place at her side just as the _Hornpipe_ movement of Handel's _Water Music_ began.

They stepped off, arriving at the back doors of the chapel nave after just a few yards. Before she looked toward the front of the church, she looked around to see that the center sections of the immense chapel were nearly full despite the short notice. She recognized most of those she saw, as every head had turned toward her. She gave them a smile beneath her veil.

Mac forced herself to look to the front right, where Jack, Sturgis, and Bud stood in full dress white uniforms, including sparkling sword belts and gleaming white gloves.

Little AJ, the ring bearer who refused to walk with "the girls", stood in front of his father in his own little white tux; from all appearances he was trying not to laugh, as he had his lower lip caught in his teeth and his eyes squeezed to slits just big enough to see through. Mac knew that look well from her adventures in babysitting her godson and his younger brothers.

She saw Chaplain Turner wink down at Little AJ, who relaxed a bit but kept his lip under control.

She looked to the left front and saw Mattie, Chloe, and Harriet arrayed there, their bouquets of red and white roses against their blue dresses giving them as patriotic an air as the men in their uniforms.

Jimmy stood in front of his mother, wide-eyed, holding on to Harriet's leg through the slit in the side. He looked like he was studying everything, and Mac bet herself that when she talked to him later, he would tell her in his own toddler vocabulary many things that she wouldn't ever have known otherwise.

At last, when she had observed everything else she wanted to remember about this day, she looked at Harm.

He looked so serene, standing there waiting for her. The worry that had so often creased his brow in the past two years was gone, replaced by crinkles at the corners of his eyes caused by a smile she had never seen before. It was far above "Flyboy" in its allure and it made her heart leap that it was solely for her. Never mind how incredibly handsome he looked in his dress whites, gold wings gleaming in the late afternoon sun streaming through one of the stained glass windows of the chapel.

Mac had been sure of many things in her life, but she had never been so sure of anything thing before as the vows she was about to take with Harmon Rabb, Jr.

She squeezed AJ's arm and they stepped off down the center aisle at an instinctive half time march, which made them both giggle a little. Military training becomes second and third nature after a while.

At the front of the church, AJ put her hands into Harm's, then turned and went to his seat beside General and Mrs. Creswell. At least that's where Mac assumed he went; she was too busy watching the emotions play in Harm's eyes just then to watch AJ.

Harm pulled their joined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on each of her wrists. Then he let them go and reached up to her veil, lifting it back from her face so that they could truly look into each other's eyes for the first time that day. He took her hands again, cradling them as though nothing could possibly be more precious to him than those two hands. She would have thrown tradition out the window right then and kissed him senseless if Chaplain Turner hadn't intoned, "Dearly beloved . . ."

Mac didn't really pay much attention to the first part of the service. She was much too enraptured with Harm, who seemed equally oblivious to all else but her. A few words of their chosen Scripture readings penetrated her reverie, though.

A verse from Hosea resonated deeply within her as Jen read, "And I will take you for my wife for ever; I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy".

A passage from Romans that she had stumbled upon while doing a homework assignment about faith during their premarital counseling had become their code for reminding each other not to try to "be on top" all the time, and she was sure she heard suppressed laughter in Tom Boone's voice as he read, "Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are."

Thankfully, Chaplain Turner had promised them a copy of his homily because he knew that neither of them would really hear what he had to say, and he was, as usual, right.

They managed to answer the first sets of questions well enough, and the enthusiasm with which their family and friends pledged their support brought her right to the edge of giggles, but only when she heard Chaplain Turner say, "Unite yourselves in marriage now and be subject to each other, in reverence to Jesus Christ," did she come to full mental and physical attention.

She had practiced these vows since the day she and Harm got engaged. She knew them as well as she knew the General Orders, had, in fact, said them in her sleep on the plane back to DC, according to AJ. She took a deep breath and squeezed Harm's hands, making sure to look into his eyes the entire time. "I, Sarah Mackenzie, take thee, Harmon Rabb, Jr., to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith to you."

She saw his tears before they fell, and she marveled that her eyes were dry while his were dripping.

Harm echoed the deep breath and the hand squeeze. "I, Harmon Rabb, Jr., take thee, Sarah Mackenzie, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith to you."

When he slid the ring onto her finger, she thought for a moment she would fall right into his arms, never mind the waiting to kiss the bride stuff. His ring looked so right on his hand, as though his hand had been crafted for the sole purpose of wearing that one ring. Perhaps, in an odd way, it had been – as had her hand for her ring. The set had been made for another Sarah and another Harmon 65 years ago and had been waiting for this moment since Daniel Harmon Rabb's personal effects arrived in a box at his wife's home near the end of World War II.

Harm lifted his eyebrow at her as they studied each other's hands, and together they turned toward his grandmother, sitting tall and proud in the front row next to Trish and Frank. Sarah Rabb smiled at them and brushed tears from her eyes with a white lace handkerchief as Trish put her arm around the woman who had always been her mother-in-law, even after she married Frank.

Chaplain Turner waited them out, and when he had their attention again, he concluded the ceremony. "To all of you who are witnesses here today, I say to you, those whom God has joined together let no one separate. Mac and Harm, you have made a commitment to each other in this joyous sacred covenant. Love and serve God together as you become one. Be merciful to each other; let your words be kind and humble and your love be patient and forgiving. Be thankful to God for the blessings in your lives. May you know the depth of your love for each other each and every day of your lives, and may that love reflect your understanding of the love with which you are held in God's heart for all time.

By the power vested in me by the State of Maryland, I now declare that you are husband and wife. I present Colonel and Captain Mackenzie Rabb. Captain Mackenzie Rabb, if she gives you permission, you may now kiss the Colonel!"

Mac heard the laughter for only a second before Harm's lips claimed hers in a kiss that curled her toes in her strappy high heeled sandals. They had dared each other to play that kiss up, and Harm seemed intent so to do. She, of course, had to follow suit, so the kiss went on, and on, and on, earning them wolf whistles and prolonged applause until someone – she thought Jack – hollered out, "Making up for lost time is what the honeymoon is for!"

She and Harm were both laughing when they broke the kiss and the recessional music, the _Finale_ from _Water Music_, started.

They marched down the aisle and back to the bridal suite so that the ceremonial sword arch could be formed outside the chapel.

"So, Mrs. Mackenzie Rabb, could I have another chance to do that kiss right?" Harm swept her into his arms with a laugh that held so much joy she wasn't sure how he could possibly change his smile to a pucker for a kiss.

She nodded, unable to speak, and found out just how that smile could become a kiss more powerful than even the one a moment ago.

She heard Frank's expected knock through the haze of their kiss and smiled at her father-in-law when he stuck his head in the door. "Son, my dear daughter, they're ready for you now."

Harm let her go but chased three more kisses before he finally straightened up and held his arm out to her. "Thanks, Dad."

She thought she saw a tear forming in the corner of Frank's eye, but when he leaned down to kiss her cheek as Harm escorted her through the door, it was gone, replaced with a twinkle he had to be practicing for future grandchildren. "Thank you," he said.

Harm's embrace must have caught Frank by surprise; his eyes widened and he did get misty-eyed as Harm said what Mac knew was long overdue. "You've been the best father a man could want, Frank. I hope I can be half the father to my children."

"You will be, son, you will be. You've already made the most important decision correctly." He winked at Mac, who wiped her own eyes at the unexpected male bonding. "Now, go show this world the lady you're lucky enough to have married."

"Aye, sir! You ready?"

Frank waved and walked away, leaving the door to the suite open.

She nodded. "I assume someone has adequately warned Lt. Vukovic regarding the proper position of his sword at all times."

Harm grinned at her. "AJ and the general made abundantly clear the new custom that only officers of equal or higher rank may engage in the traditional sword slapping of the bride and groom."

She did a quick inspection of the honor guard in her head. "So we should only get three taps each. Boone, Chegwidden, and Creswell."

"Um, well . . . Don't forget Captain Chaplain Turner, I'm not quite so sure that Jack and Sturgis bought into the new tradition . . . and, um . . ." Harm took a deep breath and blew it out before he spoke very quickly: "Bud owes me one for what I did to Harriet at their wedding. Here we go!"

They ran as fast as they could with her shoes and gown, slipping through the arched swords to the cheers and whistles of three hundred well-wishers. She felt seven light taps, but Harm winced a tight smile as he passed each staggered guard after Vukovic. Then it dawned on her that the bustle in the back of her gown protected her because there was no way that each man could have double tapped, and she turned back to the honor guard to flash a knowing smile to seven close friends who knew exactly what they had managed.

In the limo a moment later, it struck her: they were married.

After all this time, they were married.

Despite crazed terrorists of every ilk, delusional murderers, the CIA and holdouts from the KGB, other men, other women, misunderstandings, and their own damnable intransigence, she, Sarah Mackenzie, was married to him, Harmon Rabb, Jr.

She'd never been so glad to lose a coin toss in her life.

**--Fin--**


End file.
